


A Hobbit on the High Seas

by Miss_lestrudel



Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Pirate, M/M, Pirates
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-01-19
Updated: 2016-01-19
Packaged: 2018-05-14 21:53:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,664
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5760229
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Miss_lestrudel/pseuds/Miss_lestrudel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The mighty ship Erebor is looking for a navigator, and who better than Bilbo Baggins? That's what Gandalf thinks anyway, Bilbo, on the other hand, is not so sure. However, after his Tookish side takes over, he joins the company of Captain Thorin Oakenshield, supposedly "greedy" and "frightening" pirates searching for the long lost Arkenstone. He tries his best to fit in and succeed as a navigator; after all, it seems like a simple enough job, right? ...Right?</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Hobbit on the High Seas

**Author's Note:**

> I came across this on my flashdrive from a year ago and decided to continue with it ayyy. It's the pirate au no one asked for, yet everyone needs.
> 
> More characters to be introduced next chapter (aka the crew) and more ships to be introduced in much, much later chapters (I'm thinking of slipping kiliel and barduil in here if possible haha)
> 
> Also the rating may change from G to T later who knows haha
> 
> I hope you enjoy!
> 
> Special thanks to abomination for motivating me and reading over it!

            Bilbo Baggins was just a normal hobbit living in the Shire. He worked as a mapmaker in his simple home built by his father long ago. Many people referred to it as Bag End and despite its silly name, it was his. 

            He liked to think he was a respectable hobbit; inviting over relatives he didn’t even like, socializing in the market, and keeping his family’s heirlooms in order. He never even thought about the outside world, adventuring, sailing, living on the road. Well, that would be a lie. Adventuring was what he lived for when he was younger. Books of elves, pirates, and wizards; he couldn’t wait to someday see it himself.

            He supposed that all changed when his mother and father died. Not many in the Shire understood him like his mother did. He felt alone despite his extensive family and small group of friends. So he swore off adventuring; he was going to live like everyone else. He would make his family proud.

            Of course, a swear can only last so long; about 40 years to be exact.

* * *

 

            Tea is at four. It always has been. It’s certainly not coffee, ale, or the wine that was currently put in front of Bilbo.

            “Don’t they have any tea in this place?” Bilbo asked swirling the wine around in his glass.

            “Perhaps, but on a night such as this? I thought wine might be easier to come by.” Master Gandalf, an old friend, replied.

            Bilbo sighed and sipped his wine, looking around the bar. For a pub named “The Prancing Pony” it sure was busy. It was a lively scene, with fire in the hearth and drunkenness in the air. Humans, hobbits, and even a few dwarves were seen drinking and dancing on the tables (much to the bartenders’ dismay). It was only four o’clock for Yavanna’s sake. But Bilbo supposed with the winter’s early darkness, people who didn’t have much work didn’t have much to lose.

            “Why did you bring me here?” Bilbo questioned, keeping an eye on a particularly suspicious looking pirate in the corner of the room.

            Gandalf slid a flyer over and Bilbo picked it up to inspect it.

            “A navigator?” Bilbo read. “For a ship named… Erebor? A ship… pirates? Pirates, Gandalf? Are you joking?”

            “They need a worker.” Gandalf shrugged. “And I’ll bet it’ll pay more than that cheap publisher you work for now.”

            “No. No, no, no. I don’t care about the pay, I refuse to work for ruffians such as those. I’m perfectly fine with my pay. Perfectly fine with _out_ sailing, battle, and the like, thank you very much.”

            “But what’s a mapmaker without a little adventure? Don’t you want to actually _see_ the places you draw out, instead of going based off of explorers’ descriptions?”

            “I’m perfectly fine with descriptions.” Bilbo said standing up. “I will not partake in nearly-if not-very illegal acts like that.”

            “Now, that doesn’t sound quite like a Took.” Gandalf pried.

            “ _Half_ -Took.” Bilbo argued, grabbing his things. “And as a half- _Baggins_ I am not going to take you up on this job. Now if you’ll excuse me I have a map of Rohan due in the morning.”

            With that, Bilbo left the Prancing Pony and ordered a carriage home, in a thoroughly sour mood.

* * *

 

            Bilbo is really beginning to hate the Tooks. Honestly, why couldn’t he just finish the map of Rohan, give it to Master Monte in the morning, get paid, and live his ordinary life?

            But no, fate was not in Bilbo’s hands as it seems.

            Of course he’d run out of ink. It was late now, so it wasn’t like he could go to the market and get more. So there he was, scouring his bedroom for a spare ink jar. He could’ve sworn he had at least _one_ hiding away. With everything else checked, he searched his satchel; after all, he often stored one in there for emergency writing outside his home. However, in his search he found a paper he didn’t remember being there before. Reading it, he found it to be the flyer from earlier.

            _How in the Valar did it even get in here?_ Despite that mystery, Bilbo couldn’t help but glance over at it – and occasionally reread it, he’ll admit- many times as the night went on.

_Navigator needed for the mighty ship Erebor._

_A share of the profit is payment._

_All interested may gather at the Prancing Pony at the sun’s peak._

            It’s such a simple flyer and yet it’s swaying Bilbo’s entire lifestyle. He _really_ hated this.

* * *

 

            He assumed the sun’s peak, was noon. Sailing time; he’d have to get used to that. He’d have to also get used to not believing in a single thing he was doing. He _had_ to be insane.

            He arrived at the Prancing Pony at quarter to one and was surprised at the calming atmosphere. Instead of drunken dancing and merrymaking, there were only a few customers eating lunch and having a drink. He looked around for the person he was supposed to meet.

* * *

 

            Earlier at the market, he asked around about the ship Erebor.

            Unfortunately -or fortunately if you were any average hobbit- no one at the market knew much about that ship, let alone the crew. “Greedy” is a word most hobbits used to describe them, which could really be used to describe any pirate. However he supposed it was better than most hobbits, who refused to even answer and asked “why would you want to know about such dirty, petty things?”

            The most information he got was from a mysterious human who overheard Bilbo asking a merchant.

            “What does a hobbit want with the Erebor?” A hooded archer asked.

            Bilbo couldn’t quite make out his face, however dark strands of wavy hair poked out of the man’s hood.

            “Well that’s my business now isn’t it?” Bilbo retorted, getting quite tired with people telling him off.

            The hood now revealed a smirk from the mustached man.

            “The company of Captain Thorin Oakenshield is not an ordinary one. They may seem out of sorts, but in a given situation, they can prove to be some of the fiercest pirates of this day and age.” The man stated, idly observing an orange from the stand. “A bunch of greedy pricks for the most part, I hear. None as greedy and frightening as their captain though. Oakenshield.” The man said the name almost respectfully. “He has the bearings of a great captain, but if he uses them well… well I wonder.”

            “What does he look like?” Bilbo asked, trying to get as much information as he could.

            The man thought for a moment. “Like your average dwarf I suppose. Long dark hair, sharp nose, a sneer that could curdle milk. The only thing different about him I suppose is his beard.”

            “What of his beard?”

            “Well-“ The man was now moving to another stand and Bilbo followed. “Dwarves hold their beards in high regard as you may know, the longer, the more braided the better. However this dwarf, this _captain_ , keeps his short. No wonder he is not held in high esteem.”

            “But why then wou-“

            “Da!” Two voices called in the distance and the man was gone right before his eyes.

* * *

 

            As much information as the man had given him, it did not seem to help in the present time. Bilbo’s stomach was turning as he searched among the patrons for this so called “frightening” dark haired man. However after three times around the entire tavern, he was stopped by a stark-white haired dwarf. Definitely _not_ the one he was expecting.

            This dwarf was old and very short with a bulbous nose. He seemed to be one who could be kindly if he wished, but at the moment his face showed only annoyance.

            “Could ya find a seat and sit down already, laddie? You’re making my head spin.” The dwarf said.

            “Oh.” Was all Bilbo could say, and sat in the chair opposite of him.

            The dwarf sighed and continued crossing out things on the paper in front of him. It was quiet until Bilbo had ordered a cup of tea. When the tea arrived, the dwarf looked at him as if he were annoyed by his presence. However what came out of the dwarf’s mouth was far nicer than Bilbo expected.

            “Okay, laddie. I’m expecting some people, but if you wish to sit here, that’s fine. Just pull up another chair to make room.” He said, looking back down at his paper.

            Without a word, Bilbo grabbed a chair from behind the dwarf and simultaneously sneaked a peek at the paper. It was two columns of writing, the first was titled: _Potential Navigators_ and the second was titled: _Credentials._ It appeared that everything from each column was crossed out.

            That’s when it hit him.

            “You’re not from the Erebor are you?” Bilbo asked, dropping the chair.

            The white-haired dwarf turned to him. “What if I am? Do you have any business with me?”

            Bilbo rushed to the other side and sat back in his chair.

            “Uhm- actually I – er heard you needed a navigator.”

            That sure got the dwarf’s attention.

            “You?” The dwarf laughed. “By my beard! You look like you’d faint at the mere _sight_ of a blade!”

            As the dwarf laughed, Bilbo got more frustrated. After all, he went through a lot to convince himself to do this.

            “A friend told me to pursue it and I believe I have quite enough credentials to go through with it.” Bilbo argued.

            “What friend would that be?” The dwarf asked, looking interested now.

            “His name is Gandalf.”

            The dwarf smirked.

            “So. This is the “perfect” navigator he chose? Ha, that wizard’s gone crazy in his age.” He looked up at Bilbo’s serious face. “Very well, I suppose if he trusts you enough and you don’t faint as soon as you step onto the boat, you’ll do. Balin, at your service.”


End file.
